The lost hunter: A tale of early times

by John Turvill Adams

"Hold your yaup," cried another boy, standing by; "if you don't like your bet, Hen Billings, I'll take it off your hands."

But little Billings seemed to think he had made a good bet, and although loth to concede to Bill any advantage that did not of strict right belong to him, was far from being disposed to relinquish it. "Go your length, Bill," he said, "I ain't afeard of the expense."

The space being now cleared, Bill began to circle round preparatory to the trial. It was evident he was not very skillful, and the opinion of the bystanders, who amused themselves with criticising his preliminary performances, was about equally divided respecting his ability to perform the undertaking. After a few turns Bill cried out:

"Now, Hen, look out." With that he darted forward, until he supposed he had attained the required momentum, when suddenly making a twisting motion with his feet, he threw himself round. But unfortunately he had made some miscalculation or slip, for instead of alighting square upon the skates, his heels flew up, and with a tremendous thump, down came poor Bill upon his back.

"Hurrah!" cried Hen Billings; "there you go, candy and all. I hope you ain't hurt you," he said, good naturedly. "I'd rather lose my bet than have you hurt."

"No," whined Bill, squirming round his body, and rubbing the back of his head, "not much. What are you grinning at, you monkey? Did you never see a man fall before?" cried he, shaking his fist at another boy, whose face it seems did not wear an expression of condolence to suit him. "I vow if I don't try that again," he added, after having recovered a little from the effects of his fall.

Thereupon space being again allowed, Bill, with genuine pluck, tried the experiment once more, and this time with better fortune. His success was greeted with shouts of congratulation, and with expressions of "true grit," "stuffy little fellow," &c., and he presently disappeared with his friend, Hen, in search of the candy-merchant.

Faith and Anne, with the two young men, had witnessed the whole scene with some interest, and the different manner in which the girls were affected was characteristic. Faith betrayed a lively sensibility when the boy fell, and was hardly restrained from condoling with him; while Anne took but little notice of it, but exhibited exquisite delight at his courage and final success. But something else now attracted their attention. A shout was raised, and exclamations were heard of "There comes the ice-boat; there comes Grant's ice-boat."

Turning round, they beheld what had the appearance of a boat under sail, flying round the promontory of Okommakemisit. A slight breeze was drawing up the stream, and before its favoring breath, the little vessel, or whatever else it might be called, advanced with great rapidity. In a few moments it had reached them, and with a sharp grating sound as of iron cutting into ice, came suddenly to a stop, and the persons gathering round had an opportunity to examine it. It was the work of a village genius, and consisted of some boards, cut in an elliptical form (as, perhaps, the most convenient), supported by two pieces of iron, parallel to each other, to which the boards were fastened, and running the whole length from bow to stern. In the forward part was rigged a mast, to which was attached a sail, like the mainsail of a sloop, and the whole was controlled by a piece of sharp iron, fixed on the stern in such a manner as to turn like a rudder, and to cut with any required degree of pressure, by means of a lever, into the ice. With this simple regulator it was made perfectly safe, being stopped as readily, and on the same principle, as a skater arrests his course.

Grant, to whom Pownal and Bernard were both known, invited the little party to take a sail with him, assuring them there was no danger. The invitation was at once accepted by Miss Bernard, though the more timid Faith hesitated, and the four took their seats. The group of persons, as before observed, were at the head of the Severn, and the wind was drawing up the river, it was, therefore, necessary, to beat against the wind at starting. To the surprise, in particular of the ladies, this was done with the most perfect ease, the vessel, on her sharp runners, making but little lee-way, and obeying her helm more readily than any boat in water. Indeed, obedience was instantaneous. She whirled round as quickly as one could turn one's hand, requiring promptness and presence of mind in the steersman. Thus, like a bird, with smooth and equable motion, she flew with her delighted passengers, in many a zig-zag, down the Severn, until they had gone as far as desired, when round she spun, and before the breeze, houses, and men, and trees, gliding by as in a race, dashed up to the starting point.